Feral
by Winter Ashby
Summary: He sucked and licked, nipped and touched until she was blue-lipped with need and then, he would command her. [Genma & Sakura] Previously posted on my LJ.


**Title: **Feral**  
Author:** Winter Ashby (_rosweldrmr_)**  
Disclaimer: **Naruto © Masashi Kishimoto**  
Rating: **M**  
Summary: **He sucked and licked, nipped and touched until she was blue-lipped with need and then, he would command her. [Genma & Sakura]  
**Warnings: **Mature Content, Sex, Underage, Dubious Consent. References to prostitution and slight D/S.  
**Authors Notes: **This is for **zelha**, who requested some naughty Genma/Sakura for her birthday. This was supposed to be a drabble, but I thought that this convoluted relationship deserved more attention that 100-500 words. I hope you like it dear. Sorry, it's a bit more depraved that I initially intended. And I'm woefully late, forgive me that too.

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"What are you doing?"

It was too early in the day for rhetorical questions, Sakura thought. "Skinning fluffy animals." She jeered as she fastened the strap of her knee-high shin guards. Her short pink hair fell over her ears, and touched against the side of her cheek, like soft fingers in the dawning light. When there was no response, she turned, hand on her hip, and gave Genma a reproachful glance. "I have a mission."

"Funny." He didn't sound as if he meant that in the literal terms. His eyes were squinted into the light, and his forehead was creased. Being annoyed didn't suit his features. It made him look older than Sakura wanted to admit.

"What?"

"You always seem to have a mission, first thing in the morning." He sat up in bed, the white linens of his single pulling around his chest, and reached for the senbon on the side table.

"Don't." Sakura turned to face him, the sheets falling all the way down his stomach and settling nicely around his waist.

"Don't what?" the innocent humor made her skin turn hot. He knew just the right way to push her.

"You know I hate that thing." She eyed the offensive shinobi tool that he continuously bastardized every time he insisted on treating it as if it was an overgrown toothpick. "That's a medical tool, treat it with respect."

"And me, aren't I a _shinobi _tool? Where's my respect?" He was half sitting up now, damn senbon bobbing between his teeth, taunting her. "Tell me," he spoke as he removed it from his mouth and twirled it between his fingers, lovingly. "Does he know where you go at night?"

He was pinned to the mattress before he had a chance to drop the senbon, or erase the look of shock from his face. Sakura straddled him, and held him down with her fingers wrapped around his throat.

"Never. Mention. Him." She was careful to punctuate each word with her nails digging a little farther into the skin of his neck.

After the initial shock of it, and the air returned to him, he smiled. "Haruno, you know me better than that."

"I don't know you at all." Disgusted with herself, she stood and straightened her clothes. He, on the other hand, didn't even try to hide the obvious erection under the paper-thin sheet. Smirk half plastered to his lips, he licked the corner of his mouth and made a move to replace the senbon.

Sakura moved to slap his hand away, and it was her turn to be forced against the bed. He loomed over her, the sheets tangled around his legs and hers, binding them together, half torn from the mattress. He was still naked from the night before.

"Tsk, tsk," he clicked he tongue at her when she tried to wriggle free. The senbon was now held millimeters from her trachea. "What did I tell you last time about taking things that didn't belong to you?"

"The same thing you told Naruto, I'm sure."

"If I can't talk about your husband, then neither can you."

She hissed at the title, _husband_. "Don't"

But he pushed the senbon farther into her neck, just barely breaking the skin. "You're in no position to demand anything, Mrs. Uzumaki."

She hated when he called her that. She hated to be reminded what she was doing. It wasn't his place. He was irreverent, and irrationally, she wanted to berate him for not calling Naruto by his village title, Nanadaime-sama. He was beloved, and Genma knew it would piss her off. But he always did it, chose the intimate title for Naruto instead of the one he should have used.

Never did what he was supposed to. But, then again, neither did she.

He removed the senbon and she heard it hit the wooden floor of his apartment. She could have run, should have, but she didn't. She never did.

"Does Kakashi know?" he whispered in her ear, venomously and sweet. "Do you visit him in the middle of the night too? With your bindings torn and begging for him?" He moved now, pulling the sheets away with precise concentration, until the only thing that stood between them was her clothes. He watched her face the whole the way her eyes followed his erection, they way she unconsciously leaned into him.

He reached between her thighs, ran a finger over her training shorts. And she couldn't help the moan that spilled treacherously from her lips. "Has he ever been inside you?" He rocked his hips, nudging himself against her. "Does he know all the dirty things you like, does he know how to make you scream?"

"No." She whispered the answer, caught in a hazy surrender.

"I bet your loving husband doesn't even know. You never told him you liked to be tied up or whipped?" She tried to mutter something, a snide retort. But her trembling lips only served to a exhale breath like she was pleading for more. "Does he know you were a courtesan in the west for a year, undercover?" And as he leaned in, the head of his cock grazing against the moist fabric of her crotch, she could feel his hands wandering over her, teasing her through her clothes. "Does he know how to make you beg?"

His silver tongue, wicked and vengeful always knew just what to say. He studied her, watched her face as she tried to arrange her features to be impassive. And when she failed, like she always did, he would smile. "That's my girl." His fingers on her hips twisted in the hem of her shorts, and dragged them down just slightly. His hands were cold in the early morning as he dipped farther down, under her panties, to play against the sensitive flesh there.

A heat spread over her, down her arms, up her legs. It swept across her chest, like a raging fever until it settled at the apex of her legs. Hidden, tucked away, she felt the ache begin to spiral down. When he looked at her the way he was now, all traces of the apathetic examiner she used to think of him as disappeared. And he became something else. He was the thing she craved, what she needed. He was the only man who held her down, forced her to see what she really was, tongue sliding over her exposed breast, whispering in her ear.

"You're a whore, Haruno. You're my whore."

She pushed back against him. It was meant to be a retaliation, a refusal. But instead, she found her spine arching into him, rolling her eyes shut at the feel of him pressed against her. "Yes." She submitted to him.

He was slow about it, removing her clothes, careful to touch every bit of her, taunting her the whole time. "Tell me you want it." She did. "Tell me you're worthless." She did, at least that much was true. And as the last scrap of her clothes was pulled away, arousal-soaked underwear, he held his body over hers, careful _not _to touch a speck of skin, save for his cock nudging at her clit, he looked down at her, all hate and malicious intent, and commanded what he knew would break her.

He knew it would, because he did it every time. He sucked and licked, nipped and touched until she was blue-lipped with need and then, he would command her.

"Tell me you don't love him. I want to hear it, Haruno. Tell me you never loved him. He was just a replacement for a little brat that never loved you. Tell me."

He knew she'd never say it. And as she shook against him, half-crazed with lust and pent-up aggression, she could almost convince herself that the tears that spilled over her cheeks were from anger and nothing more. Not the truth, which he'd known all along.

But he knew. He knew how to read her, body and mind. Until she was so strung out on wanting him that she would admit her deepest held, self-loathing secrets to him, just to get him to fuck her.

"Please, Shiranui." Always formal, to a fault. She used the anonymity of the last name to shield herself from the pain of it. When she was with him, she was Haruno, the geisha. Not Sakura Uzumaki, wife of the hokage, medical ninja. And he was Shiranui, a customer. Not a sempai, not a mentor. Not the man, who at her jounin exam, cornered her in an empty, grey corridor and pushed her against the cold concrete.

_"How old are you?" he whispered against her ear. His voice was deep and crackled with something she knew nothing about._

_"Seventeen." She'd always heard the examinations were hard, they asked you to do things that tested your mental and physical limits._

_"Old enough." With one hand he pinned her wrists against the wall over her head, while the other unfastened the straps of his uniform. A metal snap was the only indication that his pants were undone._

_"Genma-sempai, what are you doing?" the fear was evident in her voice, and she prayed that she could make the shivering stop._

_"You want to become a jounin, don't you?" he reached between their bodies, his hands sliding over her quivering stomach, down to cup the burning center of her thighs._

_"Yes."_

_"Then you'll do exactly as I say." With more adept fingers than she realized was possible, he pulled the fabric of her shorts aside with his pinky and without warning or preclusion, plunged a finger inside her._

_When she tried to scream, his lips covered hers, tongue forcing its way inside her mouth, running over her lips, cramming the protest back and down. And as he moved the finger deeper, one centimeter at a time, her eyes slid shut. He flicked his knuckle slightly, and her knees nearly gave out._

_"I'm going to fuck you now, Haruno." The way he whispered it in her ear made it sound almost like a proclamation of love._

_He turned her, hands still holding her wrists and bent her at the waist. But then, he released her hands. She surprised herself when she didn't run. She stayed, exactly as he'd positioned her. Back bowed slightly, palms flat against the wall, and she turned to watch him from over her shoulder. A few strands of her pink hair failing over her eyes._

_"Tell me you want it." He took himself in his hands; boxers bunched below his balls, already hard and nudged himself against her. She couldn't see it, but she could smell something stale and sweaty. She could see his pants unzipped and pulled open, and just a hint of pink flesh in his hand._

_"Is this part of my test?" She could hear the crowd in the stadium now, beginning to file into their seats. The light at the end of the hallway was just a pinprick in the dark._

_He leaned over her, and shoved his hand up her shirt where he twisted her nipple. "This is the test."_

Naruto had asked her once, what her exam to become a jounin was. As a rule, most people chose not to talk about it. But when Naruto returned home, after a week without any word, soaking wet, holding a torn, bloody black cloak with red clouds he'd been more than willing to regale the entire village with the harrowing tale of how he's saved his examiner when they were ambushed by 'some weird green guy that looked like an overgrown plant from hell'. He was granted jounin status by the Rokudaime Hokage, Kakashi.

When he'd asked, Sakura just smiled and said, "It was life-altering." After that, he seemed to forget that she was a ninja at all, except when he needed to be healed.

But Genma never forgot about her. He sought her out at few times over the years. Late nights, after a party and she stumbled home alone. He'd appear from the shadows, hold her against the wooden wall of the closed raman stand while he pile-drived into her and whispered the dirtiest, most vile things she'd ever heard.

And she always let him.

But it wasn't until she returned from her mission away that she ever looked for him. She'd been back a week, and she was itchy in her skin. She was used to servicing fifteen men a day, and now that she'd successfully taken down one of the most powerful crime units in the southern region, she was feeling antsy. A stranger in her own skin, she craved action and thrill. She wanted a risk, she wanted dangerous and unfamiliar.

She was 21 then, and Naruto asked her out at least once a day. And it seemed to her like the whole village expected her to accept. Like it was her destiny, or fate or something else equally useless that Neji would spout.

_Neji_. She thought the name, and conjured an image of his long hair falling over her breasts while he held her down and examined her chakra flow with his white eyes and considered giving him a house call.

It wasn't until then that Sakura really considered that she had a problem.

And it was centered directly between her legs.

Already wet, she tracked Genma down in the market square and pulled a kunai on him as he passed between buildings.

_"Fuck me." She demanded, blade to his clavicle, and already unzipping her top._

_He dropped the bag of groceries he'd been carrying. Oranges spilled from it and rolled through the dirt. His brown eyes took on a darker color in the shadow of the alley. He pushed her back against the opposite wall, a depraved smiled on his face as he maneuvered them into one of the empty vendor's homes._

That's when it started. The meetings, the sneaking around. Sakura was tired of running from her fate, tired of watching the people she cared about get hurt. So when Naruto stopped asking her out, she realized that she would have to either give in or risk losing him. She gave in.

But Genma was always there, lurking. The day of her wedding, he bent her over her vanity and fucked her in her wedding dress while he made her watch in the mirror. Pink-cheeked and bruised lips, she marched down the isle, sticky thighs and sore for a week. Punishment, for disobeying him. And she loved every second of it.

And she came back, over and over again. Even when she knew Naruto suspected… something. Though, he thought she was still pinning over Sasuke (still on the run, chasing is ever-illusive brother and a vengeance that would never fill the bloodlust he'd inherited). She went back to Genma even when Naruto took her hands in his own and told her he'd take care of her. He'd love her, no matter what.

And even now, as she lay under him, squirming and desperate to be filled, she knew Naruto loved her. She blamed Genma. He twisted her, all those years ago when he stole her virginity.

"You call that begging, Haruno? Tell me what I want to hear." He whispered it, softly, like a caress she'd never felt him give.

A cold trickle started in her throat, truth, submission, sex, lust, lies, everything these trysts were or proved or took from her. And she watched him, looming over her, naked, completely focused on her body. Every bit of her bare under his gaze, sick, depraved, fucked up and crazy. This is what she'd become. This is what she reserved for him, for this. And she wanted him, god, she wanted him more than she could understand. The heat of his body, the feel of him inside her, hands on her hips, guiding the rhythm. She needed it.

The frustrated tears fell, running hot over her face, tracking back to her misted green eyes. And she watched him, gauged the reaction, weighed the consequences of it. She could give in, she could tell him she loved him, lie to him. Tell him she didn't love Naruto, but a part of her knew that was a lie too.

"I love him. I love him more than I'll ever love you."

"What am I to you?" he asked, the closest he'd ever come to real emotion when they were like this.

"Nothing." Tears fell, and she quivered. "Now, fuck me like I mean nothing to you."

He snorted. A short, sharp, mirthless laugh, full of things he'd never say. "You're really fucked up, Haruno." The smile he wore was a lie. It hid the anger, the hate, the wicked things he would do to her. "You liked being fucked by someone who doesn't care, doesn't give a damn about you. You like being treated like an object. You really are a whore. You miss it, don't you? The feeling of strangers inside you, lying with you, controlling you like a puppet on a string. You wish you were back at that brothel, even now, don't you?"

Sakura smiled at him, so saccharine it hurt her cheeks and her tears stopped. "It's the only reason I let you touch me." she bit out the response.

He looked almost proud then, the way the rising sun caught the light of his eyes. And torturous as ever, he moved into her, so slowly that she trembled and bucked her hips up to met his. His smile returned and he laid a hand on her stomach to keep her flat against the bed.

"I own you," and with that, he thrust into her, painfully so. He started the pace, rough and even, he added a rocking to his hips that made her toes curl. "I made you." He slammed into her over and over again, and she came more than once. Her hair fell over her eyes and she scratched long, ragged patterns into the flexed muscles of his back.

She begged for it, for more. "Are you going to cum again?" he asked and reached between them to rub her clit.

"Yes." She cried for him and came, shuttering and clamping her thighs around him. She could see he was close, feel the erratic thrusts he'd succumb to. He watched her as she recovered from her third orgasm. She knew what he needed to finish, knew a sure way to drive him over the edge.

She reached up, and touched his face, ran her fingers through his hair that was matted with sweat. "I hate you." She said it like she told Naruto she loved him, like it was an endearment. A talent she learned from him.

"Fuck." He growled and came instantly.

After two minutes to cool, find her underwear and dress she was at the door. She didn't say anything as she left. What did she have to say to him anyway. There never should have been anything, and having gotten what she came for, she left, as silently as she'd come the night before, through his opened window.

When she got home, Naruto was waiting for her, like he always was. Blue eyes all worry and love and she could only bring herself to kiss his forehead and retreat to the bathroom. He didn't say anything either, so maybe, in some ways, he understood more than she gave him credit for. But that didn't mean that she wouldn't go back to Genma. They both knew she would.

She always did.

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I blame this on sappy HP Ginny/Harry fics. I needed something dirrrrty. I hope I didn't shock too you too much. Also, this is just for all the pinkcrack members, but I tried to fit in a little Sakura OTVB in there. Did you catch the Neji/Sakura, Sasori/Sakura, Kakashi/Sakura, and (shutter) Naruto/Sakura. Look, I'm wandering outside my comfort zone!


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